


A New Fan

by Mr_Possessor



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Body Possession, Fucking a soulless husk, Fucking your old body, M/M, Male Body Possession, Male Possession, Masturbation, NSFW, Possession, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Possessor/pseuds/Mr_Possessor
Summary: Ezreal has a fan that became obsessed over him - and no, it's not Zoe. Gareth is willing to throw his old life to be with Ezreal. Or rather, to be him.
Relationships: Ezreal/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1: A New Fan

Gareth tried to keep his pace fast. The hot sands of the Great Sai shifted underneath his feet. This would be bearable if not for the heavy cargo on his back.

"Walk faster!" their Noxian slave master hissed atop his armored beast.

This is the day in the life of Gareth. No surname like the rest of Shuriman orphans. They wake early in the morning to tend the tomb-raiding party. Adventurers garbed in fur and metal often join the band of slaves and their Noxian slave masters. Once, Gareth banded with a tall grey lady whose feet could slice your stomach open. They travel around the Great Sai desert on the lookout for the treasures of the once-great Shuriman empire. Most of their ventures often end in nothing. They travel around the great desert until they run out of supplies. If they do find one, the adventurers they escorted fell to the devious traps of these tombs. It is Gareth's job to loot these poor adventurers and find whatever else they could find. He'd surrender these artifacts to his master, which they would sell back on the trade city of Marrowmark.

This is how Gareth's life started. He assumed that this is how it would end. A simple orphan guiding others to a treasure he could not possess. That was until he met a certain blonde and obnoxious tomb raider.

You see, Gareth does not see the appeal in tomb raiding. Why would they risk their lives for mere objects of a bygone age? Shurima fell for reasons unknown. These artifacts might be one of those. They hold too much power for simple mortals. If Gareth would get to decide, these trinkets should rot underneath the burning sands of the Great Sai. They should fade away to nothingness and leave the orphans of Shurima be. All adventurers are stupid to undertake these ridiculous endeavors. Especially the adventurers coming from Piltover. A lot of them are obnoxious folks who see themselves as the pinnacle of the world. They venture into the shifting desert thinking they knew how to survive in these festering plains of death. Some of them would, Gareth would give them that. But some could barely venture half a week-worth of the journey before collapsing in the desert heat.

The blonde adventurer is different. He sees the Great Sai as an old foe. An enemy to be conquered again and again. During our travels with him, he would often change the route from the ones depicted on the map. Sometimes, he'd disappear for days and return with a bag of relics and trinkets. People often see him as a naïve boy seeking fame through the life of adventure. Sooner or later, that gauntlet of his would fail and the desert would swallow him up like the others before him. Gareth shared the same thoughts. Every tomb dives would end with his boisterous bickering about how amazing he is.

Then one night, when the moon is at its fullest. Gareth was supposed to clean the group's equipment by the river Kahleek when he saw Ezreal tending to his wounds. He may be an adept adventurer but the way he bound those bandages are wrong. Gareth rushed in and asked his permission to tend them. Ezreal is hesitant - this might be a minus point to the fame he accrued. Nobody should see his damaged side. He looked at the wounds he tended - they are wider than they were before. If he doesn’t close them soon, it will create scars that mage-healers cannot erase. He could not help but give Gareth permission.

"Why do you like raiding tombs?" Gareth asked. He does not know why but it felt natural to slip the question out.

"For the fame of course," Ezreal said in broken Shuriman. Gareth has his fair share of sly mouths and liars. He knows a superficial reply when he hears one. A crazed old beggar once uttered before him - to squeeze out the truth in somebody, stare in their eye, and do not utter a single word. That, he did. He looked straight in his eyes that are as azure as the contrasting skies above the Great Sai during the day. Ezreal twitched and scratched the markings on his cheeks. Sure enough, a moment later and he added another answer to the question.

"My parents. They're out there - somewhere. By making a name for myself, I thought they'd hear about my achievements and come back home to congratulate me. It's been years already and to be honest, my hopes are beginning to dim."

Gareth was surprised but neatly hid it under the guise of tightening Ezreal's bandages. He didn't know about this vulnerable side of him. The side that hides in the façade of fame. This side of him dawned a new realization over Gareth. Of all the adventurers he has met, Ezreal is the only one that goes against the grain. He is different. By that, Ezreal earned a fan.


	2. Chapter 2: The Takeover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation and Gareth finds himself in a body not his own.

Gareth shifted in the sandstone floor where he slept. The night is cold but his body emits an annoying heat. It's not the surroundings but his dream. These past few days, a certain blonde adventurer forgone from raiding tombs to raid his dreams. Ezreal is all he could think about. The way he revealed his vulnerable side or the way he talked with Gareth like equals. He tried erasing all thoughts of him, but that smile and laugh of his are impossible to scrub from his mind.

Gareth threw away the blanket - it's doing him no favors to contain these unbound feelings inside him. Under the silence of the night and darkness of the clouds, he touched himself as much as his mind touched the memory of Ezreal. He remembered the time he touched him while tending his wound. His smooth skin - now sun-kissed by the sun overbearing Shurima. He smelled faint sweat and oil, of burning magic and sands. His voice is a drink of cold water. It soothes Gareth.

Before he knew it, Gareth spilled his seed on the sandstone floor.

\---

Months would pass before Ezreal comes back to Shurima in search of the remaining Immortal artifacts of Kog'sai - ten objects that are said to teach its wielders how to become an immortal like an Ascendant. Ezreal already found six which he donated to a museum back in his homeland. Gareth waited for him to look for the other three but news about his coming was dry - empty naught for the hopes in his mind.

Maybe, if he found one of the artifacts - Ezreal would come for him. Then he would recognize Gareth's skills and accept him as his apprentice - even though Gareth is only a year younger.

In the following months, Gareth would steal little gear from their customers. A length of old rope from an adventurer from Demacia. A rusting throwing knife from a mercenary that wielded a large weapon that returns when thrown. Then a rod that emits light from a one-eyed mercenary. He bought other raiding objects with his own money. He hid them from his masters, right under the riverside of Kahleek where he and Ezreal first talked. When the time was right, he fled Marrowmark into one of the possible tombs of Kog'sai near Vekaura.

Sixteen days he walked barefoot above the burning sand. Sixteen nights he slept with one eye open in fear of the great Void Burrower, Rek'Sai. On the seventeenth day of his travel, the ruins of Vekaura are within the horizon. He would have reached the city, if not for the sands that suddenly swallowed him. He feared for the worst. The burrowers have caught him and his life would end then and there. What he awoke to is a cave-in of a tomb from hundreds of years ago. Ancient Ascended came here to rest whilst they journey henceforth towards the ongoing devastation in Icathia. As luck would have it, Gareth saw the hieroglyphs of Kog'sai detailing the walls. No sign of prior raiding is evident in the halls. Gareth followed the trail of hieroglyphs to a large room with a pedestal in the middle. He's heard of stories like this before so he grabbed a stone and threw it at the surroundings. Traps emerged, from spikes to trapdoors. Gareth opened every single one and when he was sure that it was safe, he grabbed the artifact and climbed out of the tomb.

When he knew it was safe, he pulled out the artifact from his satchel. A rod glinted golden under the rays of the afternoon sun. Etches on the side told that this is a blow dart that uses one's soul as a projectile. It does not say if it's only a part of his soul or the entirety of it. Gareth did not bother to find out. His only goal is to use this artifact as a lure for Ezreal. Only then, there might be a chance that they could venture out together.

\---

A few days passed before words of a cave-in near Vekaura spread amongst the people of Marrowmark. Gareth would give it three months before slivers of such tale spread out to the city of Piltover and Zaun. What he did not know is it only took a month for Ezreal to catch wind of it. Another month to venture out of Nashramae to the Great Sai, and find out that it's not a burrower who caused the cave-in. One look and he knew that it's a Tomb of Kog'Sai. The markings on the wall, the Ascendant with the face of an Armadillo, he's sure of it. He looked around for a way to the grand sanctum, where the Ascendant usually places their magical artifacts. His excitement died when saw nothing but a roll of bandage in the pedestal where the artifact should be. He cussed at the desert for fooling him. Going out here was for nothing.

A moment later, the roll of bandage struck him like a pile of rocks. Last he checked, ancient Shurimans do not make bandages like that. And besides, it has his mage-healer's brand on it. He unfurled the roll and saw the writing that pieced everything together.

"Kahleek River," it says.

\---

People often attribute the desert to its sweltering heat in the day. Novice adventurers are always in for a shock when they find out that on some nights, the desert can be as cold as the edges of Freljord. The night is silent except for the tune of the running waters of Kahleek River. Its waters shone like silver in nights where the moon is at its fullest. Ezreal stooped to grab a drink when he heard a noise from behind him. He teleported on a nearby rock but regretted it when the glowing particles threw away his location.

Note to self: Never do that again.

"Ezreal, it's me, Gareth," the shadow said.

The voice is familiar from months past. Ezreal met hundreds of people every time he ventured out but he knew where that voice belonged. It's that guy who tended his wounds after he raided the fifth Immortal Artifact of Kog'Sai. He teleported a few meters away from the shadow and saw him face to face - a guy shaped by the unforgiving sands of Shurima. He is built but all in the wrong ways - a product of forced manual labor by those damn Noxians. Unlike him, he does not have a mage-healer to erase the scars that overlaid on top of another on his skin. There's that signature nick in his ear, probably from a whip or a sword. Ezreal eased his defenses and allowed Gareth to come closer.

"I have this," Gareth pulled the Soul Dart of Kog'Sai from his pockets.

"Ho- how did you find this?" Ezreal asked, surprised. "How did you get past the Gate Guardians?"

"I didn't. I fell in the hallway leading to where I found this thing." Gareth gulped, "I um… want to give this to you."

Ezreal's been in this charade before. There's always a catch. "Not to be rude, but in exchange for what?"

"Nothing. I'm not forcing you to do this, but I want to be your apprentice."

Ezreal appreciates the sentiment but, "Sorry guy, I kinda have a solo thing going on."

"I can carry your luggage, heal your wounds, and be your guide in the Great Sai. I can provide service to you," Gareth got too close that both of them tumbled together on the floor. "I am so, sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Look, you can just give me the artifact and we can forget all these ever happened. I could still come around Marrowmark and ask your party as a guide."

Gareth thought that he was prepared to take no for an answer. He thought. He really did. But the situation right now is nothing to the ones he cooked up in his mind. He expected him to say yes. Hearing him decline twice stabbed his expectation down to shreds of disappointment. He crawled away from Ezreal and hid the artifact.

"On second thought, I think I'm going to be holding this artifact," Gareth said.

"That artifact is dangerous. You could kill yourself with that thing." Ezreal readied his gauntlet in case the situation turns hot.

"I do not care,"

Ezreal teleported behind Gareth and tried to pry away the artifact from his hands. Gareth heard about his powers and was prepared against it. He pulled the artifact to his lip and blew. The night is dark but in an instant, it became as bright as day. Gareth felt like he was ripped from the earth and thrown to whatever tempest he found himself in. His mind cracked into a million pieces. Memories he does not remember having poured into his mind like molten iron. He remembers having parents - kind ones that always brought tales of their ventures in the wild, even though he knew he was abandoned by his real parents in exchange for three silver coins. He remembers tiptoeing above the university rooftops when he was eight-years-old, but he also remembers carrying bags of sandstone at that age. Two memories became one, but Gareth's sense of self remained his.

\---

Morning turned to the familiar evening. Moonlight washed over Gareth's body while sands shifted behind him. He groaned. They must have hit together hard to warrant losing their consciousness. As Gareth rose, a sense of wrongness dawned over him. One change he realized in now he's garbed in strange expensive clothes. On his torso is a cool cotton shirt underneath a leather vest perfect for the hot weather of Shurima. On his left hand is an ancient Shuriman artifact - the gauntlet of Ne'Zuk. This gauntlet should be in Ezreal's hand, not his. Another change he realized was how his air hangs annoyingly on his head. He remembers keeping it short and clean, not this long. Not to mention - it should be black not gold.

And of all the changes he could see, it's seeing his own lifeless body strewn on the riverside that made him scream. And his scream sounded anything but right. It's him, right there. Gareth crawled to his mirror-image, a lifeless husk based on its dull eyes. It's alive but it does not breathe nor does its heartbeat. It's like it's in stasis. Just as Gareth was searching for ways he could wake up his old body, he saw a glimpse of his reflection in the waters of Kahleek. A certain blonde-haired adventurer stared at him. Wide-eyed with its azure eyes. Every motion he made, the reflection followed. When he talked, it was Ezreal's voice coming from his mouth. The reflection is Ezreal, then that means - he is Ezreal.

Gareth grabbed his husk and traveled back to the inn where he is staying. No. Where Ezreal is staying. He cursed at himself. Ezreal and his memories are melding in his mind. He is Gareth and he is Ezreal, that is what his mind is telling. He blinked every few seconds until he reached the confines of his temporary shelter. A one-room bedroom, a luxury as Gareth, a boring place to stay at before travels as Ezreal. He laid down his old body in the bed whilst he sat at a chair and assessed his current situation.

Scanning through Ezreal's memories told about the Soul Dart of Kog'Sai, one of the artifacts in that path to immortality. It shoots out the entire soul of its wielder. Hitting an inanimate object means the death of its user. But hit an animate one, Ezreal in this case, and the user's soul overtakes its body. Ezreal's soul can be considered dead. Gareth's soul swallowed it and gained its innate memories and talent. Gareth gulped. Sure, he's killed before to survive. But not like this. Ezreal's death is on his hands. It's not even because he wanted to survive. He was selfish and wanted Ezreal for himself. And look where that got him? His wish is fulfilled at the cost of an innocent's life.

As for his old body, it will remain in stasis. It will not require any sustenance nor will it age or contract a disease. It's immortal until a soul inhabits it. It is an object - an eternal reminder of who Gareth was. An object to be used. Free to be handled in any way he can.

Gareth crawled beside his old body and noticed a sharp stench coming from it. It smelled like the desert mixed with the heat of a hundred spices. This is the smell of a Shuriman, pungent but not foul. Gareth undressed its tattered wrappings to reach more of its flesh. He took a heavy sniff of its stench. Like the sun above Shurima, it burned his lungs and filled them with pinpricks of pain. This is what he needs, a punishment that also serves as a pleasure. He sniffed once more, deeper this time. It filled him to the brim. His body is burning, whilst his member is throbbing to get out. Gareth undid his belt and gauntlet and removed the rest of his clothing. Ezreal is thin and he always imagined him to have an average-sized dick. That expectation is twice broken when he sees how hung Ezreal is. There was reluctance when he touched it. Fear in the unknown, he might add. It's unnerving, bigger it is than his previous one. It would be a punch to his manliness if the situation was other than this. He crawled closer to the head, then opened its loosely closed mouth. That hole used to be where he spoke and ate. Now, it's just a useless orifice without a mind to use.

Slowly, he slid his dick inside the saliva-covered hole. The slimy cavernous walls of the mouth eased the way his member slipped inside. So far, so good. Gareth smiled. This truly is bliss, having your member surrounded by warm thick goo with inches of flesh hugging from all sides. He opened the mouth further, careful not to let its teeth scrape Ezreal's dick. Gareth trusted repeatedly. He groaned in a voice not his own. By the sands, hearing his new voice is making Gareth even harder. He grabbed the husk by its hair and face-fucked it until his dick was jammed down its throat. It's a good thing he's not at the other end because he'd be spitting a rod this size.

"Gah!" Gareth screamed. He may be famous, but he doubts Ezreal gets enough action in the bed. This dick of his is untouched. A virgin in the grasp of another person. This naivete must be the reason why everything feels so new and raw. Every thrust is enough to paralyze him. Gareth's breath misted. He could feel it coming. His hips hastened and reached deeper depths with his dick, and sometimes his balls. With one hand, Gareth fondled his new pink nipples. It seemed to add a stack of electricity that is already quaking him cold. The climax peers closer and Gareth moans in retaliation.

"Ah!" He half-screamed and moaned. "It's coming,"

And so it came. With his adventures, Ezreal never had the time to partake in pleasures such as this. Gareth emptied months-worth of cum down his old body's throat. He clawed on its hair as the pleasures invading his body made him collapse on the bed. His old husk may be in stasis, but it could be mistaken as alive because of how warm it is. He wiped off the cum in its cracked lips and drifted off to sleep.

\---

Gareth, or Ezreal he used to be called now, picked up where the original left - adventuring in lands far and wide, surrendering his wars to the Adventurer's guild or selling them to the highest bidder. Having the Ezreal memories proved useful in acting like the lad. It's been two years and not even his closest caretaker, Professor Lymere, noticed any difference. With him in the reins, he did everything to transition to a less obnoxious person. Which served him well. He has more customers and people tolerate him more.

Ezreal's body, on the other hand, served him in ways more than one. He trained his body properly this time. He still looks like a twink but he could hold his own in a brawl fight against bigger opponents. Like that time in Ionia where he was conquered by this half-vastayan who calls himself the boss. The bigger more muscular man was steaming mad after Gareth stole some ancestral artifact that belongs to one of his henchmen. Lucky for him, the boss has interests other than beating others to a pulp.

Gareth came back to his inn with a gaping asshole. The boss fucked him harder than his other customers from Piltover. The important thing is he got the artifact. The boss lets him go, in exchange, he needs to visit the fighting pits whenever he is in Ionia.

\---

Gareth's life has never been any better. He did evil to reach this point in life. Sometimes, he'd regret it but the years seem to erase it away. He's got his wish, that's what it all matters. To be with Ezreal in every stepping moment is truly the greatest bliss.


End file.
